


Il Primo

by GuavaTeaPixie



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bathtubs, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Multiple Orgasms, POV Second Person, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, Shameless Smut, Vaginal Sex, Wedding Night, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:27:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25562059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuavaTeaPixie/pseuds/GuavaTeaPixie
Summary: You've always had certain expectations for an arranged marriage, but the younger prince of Asgard is nothing like you expected.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 241





	Il Primo

"Are you alright, princess?" he asks softly.

You turn to the prince seated next to you. His long, lanky body is more poured into the chair than seated in it. He'd removed his helm and was just in his formal armor now, black hair curling softly around his face. His eyes are so green they almost glow in the twilight.

You smile at him as best you can, still nursing the single cup of mead you've held all evening. "I'm very well, thank you. It's just quite a lot to take in, all this."

The wedding feast is winding down; lanterns are slowly being lit around the gardens, and soon the bride and groom will be sent off to bed. You take another slow sip of mead. This marriage wasn't something that had been sprung on you; since birth it had been expected of you to marry someone of another noble family and produce heirs, though it was a pleasant surprise for your parents to receive a proposal from the Allfather that you marry his younger son.

You'd known what was expected, and carefully prepared yourself for a life based on political alliance rather than love, but the younger prince of Asgard had, as the reputation that preceded him should have warned you, thrown a bit of chaos into the mix. A week or so after the betrothal was announced, you'd received his first letter. It was formal, but with an underlying hint of something that intrigued you. He wrote in careful script and, to your surprise, asked many questions about you. You'd written back with an almost bold honesty, telling him of your love of riding and reading, not necessarily the most demure and princess-like hobbies, but still acceptable. His second letter was much less formal, telling you of the palace, particularly the gardens, the library, the stables - all the places you might like to spend time in the future. You'd blushed when you realized he'd signed it, 'Yours, Loki.' A frequent correspondence began, and you had forged what you would almost call a friendship with your future husband. He was charming, witty, and seemed surprisingly interested in what you had to say. When you arrived at the bifrost a week before the wedding, he'd been waiting for you, a broad smile as he stepped forward to kiss your hand. Your heart pounded in your chest at the sight of him - in addition to everything else, he was breathtakingly handsome. 

And that's why, in the days since, your nerves had grown steadily. For years you'd assumed your wedding night would be with some brutish, hulking warrior who would give you a (hopefully quick) first bedding, preferably resulting in a fast conception so you could bring a little heir into the realm. You would focus on your duties, and he on his - perhaps even taking a mistress to keep himself occupied. But now your thoughts were more and more occupied with the man next to you, wondering if perhaps there might be more to it than simple duty. 

"You've eaten so little, darling. I'll have a tray sent to our chambers, I'm sure you'll need something before you retire, or at least when you wake up," he says.

"Thank you, my lord."

"You needn't call me that, really. Just Loki is fine. It always has been." He smiles and reaches out, taking your hand in his. "Are you nervous, darling?"

"Of course not," you answer quickly, forcing a smile.

"The wife of the god of lies really should be a more convincing liar," he laughs. "If you give me a moment, I'll arrange that tray." He rises, then pauses to lean close enough that only you hear, "Wouldn't want to pass out and miss the best part, would you?"

Rather than your stomach twisting again, a bolt of warmth flows through your body instead, settling between your thighs. His voice is velvet. You wish you could go back to that comfortable resignation of what you'd always expected in a marriage, but his words, his voice, his body - it all makes you yearn desperately for something more. 

When he returns, he offers you his arm and together you begin making your way through the crowd of well-wishers and revelers. Slowly he leads you through the halls of the castle to his chambers - your chambers - pointing out various landmarks along the way to help you start learning your way through the twisting halls. 

"I hope it's to your liking," he says as he opens the door. The rooms are decorated in warm golds and earth tones with accents of green. The sitting room is practically a library; shelves of books line the walls, comfortable-looking furniture is spaced throughout the room covered in cushions and soft throws, and a large hearth on one wall with a freshly made fire radiates warmth. Loki smiles at you as you take it all in, noting the tray of bread with preserves and fresh cheese with almonds and honeycomb, a favorite of yours that you'd mentioned in one of your letters - _he had remembered_.

"What do you think, darling?" he asks. 

"It's just perfect," you whisper, stepping to one wall to run your fingertips over the leather bound volumes. Loki steps closer and boldly wraps his arms around your waist from behind, making your knees tremble just a little.

"You're perfect," he says. His breath is soft against your neck, making that lovely warmth return between your legs. "Tell me the truth, darling, are you nervous for our wedding night?"

"A little," you admit.

"I swear to you, I want nothing more in all the realms than to make you happy," says Loki. "We needn't go straight to bed. I'll draw you a bath so you can relax a bit first."

You continue exploring the bookshelves as he steps away to the bathroom, returning a few minutes later in just a pair of soft linen trousers. Your breath catches at the sight of your husband, pale skin stretched over lean muscles. He offers you his hand, guiding you to the bathroom. The bath is enormous, sunken into the floor with steps leading down. He'd filled it with not just water but something that bubbled and smelled of citrus, creating a rich foam on top. 

"May I help you with your gown?" he asks. You nod, blushing. He runs his fingertips over you slowly as he loosens the ties and lets the gown drop to the floor, leaving you in just your shift. "I can leave you to it if you like," he begins slowly, "or...I could stay."

"Would you like to stay, Loki?"

"Very much," he smiles. "but only if you want me to."

You take a deep breath, turn towards the bath, push all your anxieties aside, and in one swift stroke pull your shift over your head, baring your naked backside to him. Loki exhales slowly as you step down into the steaming water, which reaches nearly to your shoulders at its deepest point.

"Are you coming, husband?" you ask, still facing away from him. You hear the soft sound of cloth hitting the floor and his steps into the water, and suddenly his breath is on your neck again, a soft kiss placed just below your ear. One by one, he starts pulling pins from your hair, releasing the complicated updo.

"Did you know," he begins, "that when my father told me I was to be wed, I was furious that he would make such an arrangement without my consent. I wrote to you hoping to find some common ground at least, anything to make us both less miserable, and instead you absolutely astounded me. So witty and charming, such intellect for a woman of your station, and such honesty about yourself, not just stupid flattery because I'm a prince. And then I met you at the bifrost and could barely stop myself from throwing you over my shoulder and moving up the wedding night. You, my darling, are ravishing. And in particular, made to be ravished by me."

Suddenly you are acutely aware of the throbbing between your legs, of the edge of the water lapping at your breasts, of his hands in your hair.

"But I'm not a man of simple conquest," he continues. "There's no fun in bedding a woman if she's not willing and eager. And I take it from your apprehension that this will be your first - or at least that there's never been much satisfaction in former lovers?"

"You are the first," you say softly.

"Then I shall endeavor to be as gentle as possible. To make you want me as badly as I want you, make your body drip with arousal and writhe with desire so the breaking of your maidenhead is barely noticed as you take your pleasure from my body."

The thought makes you shiver with anticipation. He finishes letting your hair down and steps to one side, leaning on a ledge along one end of the bath. "Wet your hair," he says, reaching for a bottle out of several lined up on the tile. "I'll wash it for you." You duck under the water, bobbing as you rise back up to the surface. A little thrill runs through you as you realize he must've seen your breasts peek above the bubbles. You step slowly towards him and turn away so he can work the soap through your hair. It makes even more bubbles and smells of honey and apples.

"What did they tell you about your wedding night?" he asks, massaging your scalp with his fingertips.

"That I was to get into bed and undress, and my husband would put himself between my legs," you say, a blush again starting to creep up your neck. "And that I should endeavor not to cry when it hurt, just stay quiet and let him do as he pleases and it will be finished quickly."

"How very disappointing," he says. "To begin with, it shouldn't hurt for more than a moment, if at all. And I certainly don't want you to be quiet, quite the opposite really, nor do I believe you'll want it to be over quickly once we've begun. Now lean back so I can rinse your hair."

You do as he says, pulling your shoulders back a little so this time you have no doubt he sees your nipples break through the surface of the water. As they do, the change in temperature makes them stiffen to peaks. You know this isn't exactly proper, but the naughty thrill of impropriety is beginning to excite you.

"Didn't the ladies at court tell you anything of your own pleasure?" he asks.

"No." you reply honestly.

"Have you ever explored your own body to find out what feels good?"

"What you mean?"

He turns you around slowly. "Have you ever pleasured yourself? Rubbed yourself between your legs or put them inside?"

"No," you say softly, too embarrassed by such questions to look him in the eye. 

"Then you have as much to learn about your own body as you do mine," he says. He opens his arms to you. "Will you let me kiss you and touch you a bit to start?"

You step into his arms slowly until your chest presses into his. He leans forward and kisses you, softly at first before building up momentum. Unsure quite what to do with your hands, you place them first on his shoulders, then begin to run them up and down his arms. You feel his mouth open slightly, barely running his tongue across your bottom lip; a small sigh is enough to grant him more access, and he begins massaging the tip of your tongue slowly with his own. Not long passes before you pull away, breathless.

"Eyes on me. Tell me what you feel," he says.

"My heart is pounding," you reply.

"Anything else?"

"I feel...warm. Between my legs. Like my heart is beating there, too."

"Good start." He pulls you back in for another long kiss, this time letting his hands slide under the water to explore your naked body, one hand resting on your hip while the other parts your legs and gently cups your sex.

"And now?" he asks.

"That feels good," you say, leaning into the pressure of his hand. His moves his other hand slowly up your side to cup one breast, brushing the peak of your nipple with his thumb, making you gasp. "So responsive," he says softly. "Don't be shy about telling me what you want."

"I...I want to touch you too," you half-whisper, half squeak. He smiles, nodding his approval, and you begin to slide your hands down his chest and over his stomach, slowly mapping the shape of him. Your hands meet around his cock. It's not at all what you expected from the stories you were told by the women at court. While it's firm in your hands, the skin is soft under your fingertips as you begin to stroke it gently. He lets out a soft moan, and you can feel him throb at your touch. 

"May I take you to bed?" he asks, his voice noticeably deeper.

"Yes," you whisper, and the word is barely off your lips when he lifts you up and carries you out of the water, pausing briefly to grab the soft towels he'd laid out. He deposits you, still dripping wet, on the edge of the bed and kneels, beginning to slowly rub you dry. You've never been so totally bared to another person before. He begins to follow the towel with his mouth, pressing slow, soft kisses to your skin, his warm breath contrasting with the cool air as he moves up your legs. You gasp as he nears the apex of your thighs, stopping there to look up at you.

"Do you need a moment?" he asks.

"No, please, keep going, it feels so nice."

He smiles mischievously, continuing up your stomach, kissing around the curve of each breast. Your nipples are taut, as if they were straining towards him to beg for his attention. Slowly he makes his way to each of them, brushing first his lips then his tongue over the sensitive buds. You don't recognize the noises that begin to come from you, moaning and keening at his touch. The throbbing between your legs continues to grow, making you ache to feel the friction of his hand as it did when he pressed against you in the bath. 

As he continues upwards and reaches your lips again, he hooks one leg around yours and rolls swiftly over so his back is on the bed and your knees land on either side of his thighs. Your legs are spread wide, giving him an unimpeded view of your body. You can feel him, stiff and throbbing between your legs, finally starting to create some of the friction you need; you look down and realize your hips are moving nearly of their own accord, grinding into him, leaving a trail of clear slickness from between your legs.

"Yes darling, do what feels good. Don't stop until you find your pleasure," he says, his voice starting to sound hoarse.

You move your hips slowly, letting the slick tip of him trail around your entrance and up to the focal point of the pleasure. A loud gasp escapes your lips.

"There's a good girl, found the sweet spot. Keep going, I've got you." He moves his hands to your breasts, kneading the soft flesh and running the pads of his thumbs over your nipples again and again. 

Suddenly it's as if all the desire that's been building within you bursts to the surface. Waves of pleasure run through your body and you cry out. Loki catches you and brings you to his chest as you begin to lose your balance from the overwhelming sensation of pulsing and wetness between your legs. 

It takes a few minutes to recover, listening to his heartbeat as your breathing slows. The pleasure and desire pulsing between your thighs lessens, but doesn't go away entirely. When you finally have the strength to look up at him, he's smiling proudly.

"That's an orgasm, darling. A climax of pleasure."

"They didn't tell me about that part," you whisper.

"That means they must've had terribly unskilled lovers," he laughs, "which is a shame. Men's bodies can generally only have one at a time, we need a little time to recuperate afterwards. Women, on the other hand..." he trails off, choosing to demonstrate instead by rolling you carefully onto your back and once again kissing his way downward. Not breaking eye contact with you, he gently slides one finger between your legs and barely inside you, pulling it back glistening with wetness, then licking it clean. 

"You taste divine, darling. Would you like me to make you come again with my fingers and my tongue?"

"Please!"

He gently presses his lips to that same spot, still a little sensitive, before beginning to circle it slowly with the tip of his tongue. As warmth begins to build inside you again, he starts teasing the delicate skin around your opening with his fingertip, finally pushing inside you just to his first knuckle. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, not in pain, but in pleasure as he gently massages you. One finger is joined by a second, a tighter fit, but still pleasurable; he goes a little deeper and begins to curl his fingers in time with the movements of his tongue.

It's no more than a few minutes before you're on the edge of ecstacy once more, moaning softly as the pleasure builds to a peak. He raises his head just enough to look at you, and you can't stop yourself from loudly calling his name. In seconds you're riding those lovely waves of pleasure again, this time feeling yourself tighten around his fingers with each ebb and flow of the climax.

He crawls up to face you, lips and chin glistening with your wetness; you can't resist pulling him to you for a long kiss, tasting your body on his tongue.

"Is it better than you were led to believe, princess?" he asks.

"So much."

His body is pressed into yours, arms holding each other tightly and legs intertwined, as if the lines where one begins and the other ends are slowly blending together. You reach to stroke his cock, pulling it between your thighs, and he rolls you slightly so you're on top of him again. The head of his cock barely presses into you, but he pushes no further, instead reaching his hand up to your chin and bringing your gaze to him.

"Will you give yourself to me darling? All of you? Will you be my lover as well as my wife?" he asks.

"I will be yours," you say softly, "if you will be mine."

He rises to meet you in a long kiss, and as your lips meet you lower yourself onto him. You are slick with want and take him with only the slightest resistance, the briefest moment of discomfort as your body adjusts to his presence. It is immediately replaced by a flood of emotions - relief, desire... love. 

"Are you alright, darling?" he whispers.

"Yes," you moan softly.

You keep going, bit by bit, until you're filled with him, bodies once again pressed tightly together. His hands move your hips and begin to guide you slowly, rocking into him, barely moving. The sensations are new and almost overwhelming as he touches parts of you that you didn't know existed until now. One hand moves between you and his thumb brushes that wonderful spot again, making you cry out. He kisses you, his tongue sliding between your lips to tease yours, and you wonder how it is possible to feel so utterly, perfectly filled by another person.

The pleasure builds steadily, you can feel the wetness dripping out of you onto him with each movement. He breaks the kiss just long enough to whisper hoarsely, "That's it my love, let me feel you. I want you to come with me inside you."

His words push you over the precipice, this climax even more powerful than the first two. It feels as if your body is trying to pull him in even more, holding him inside you so tightly. He begins to buck his hips up into you, then cries out, pressing his forehead into yours. You feel his release, pulse after pulse warming you, then slowly beginning to drip out around him as you both collapse back onto the bed.

He doesn't pull out of you immediately; instead he holds you to his chest, kissing the top of your head and gently running his hands up and down your bare back. You lay still, listening to his heartbeat and breathing slow back to normal.

When he does finally move, he rolls you slowly, taking care not to worsen the sticky mess between your thighs. He steps away for a moment and returns with a damp towel, cleaning you with care before he cleans himself and steps away again to fetch the tray of food still waiting on the table. You eat together in bed, wrapped up in a large blanket. He smiles as you devour a third piece of bread.

"Didn't I say you'd be hungry before bed?" he teases, leaning over to steal a kiss.

Smiling, you dip a finger in the honey left on your plate and bring it to his lips. He licks you slowly, then takes the tip of your finger into his mouth and gently sucks it clean.

A pleasant shiver of anticipation runs up your spine, and you realize that your wedding night has only just begun. 


End file.
